Tonight, I made a late night run to the supermarket.
While wheeling my basket around the apples and the organic lettuce, I spotted her, the evening news anchor for a local television station. In a blue suit and giant high heeled shoes, she looked tired. We played bumper carts in front of the cheese, saying “excuse me” in unison with polite smiles.
The store patrons were pleasant, but she’s a local celebrity. It was an effort not to stare. I heard a husband ask his wife, “How can she walk in those?” but nothing else. Not quite under the radar, but still allowed to buy groceries in peace.
In my old Levi’s and tennis shoes, I was glad not to be her. I was happy not to be shopping after work in uncomfortable clothes while a significant portion of my neighborhood tried not to stare. After all, we knew the exact tenor her voice would take if she said, “Latebreaking news from the north side.”
We are polite to celebrities in my city, but I still wouldn’t want to be one of them.